Rachel Hughes had suffered a devastating blow to the back of her head which would have left her unconscious, if not dead. She had been struck two more times after that. From the angle and force used, the pathologist had surmised that it was most likely a child who had carried out the frenzied attack.
The two children had been arrested. The police had focused on the boy, Jonathan Cane, because he was a bad kid from the wrong side of the village. Jenny Hughes was described by DC Fraser as distraught. In her statement she said that her and Jonathan Cane had started to hang out a little at school. The day they went to the woods was the first time they’d been alone for a long amount of time. Jonathan Cane had tried to sexually assault Jenny Hughes, before he ran off towards where they’d left her sister. Jenny Hughes had then found her sister dead.
Cane had been in trouble with the police before: petty theft, criminal damage and arson. A local troublemaker. Cane’s blood was found on the victim. It was a straightforward case.
She flicked to the witness statement section, but the statements weren’t there. She re-read the letter from General Registry again. This was just the basic file, the officer’s case summary and the pathologist’s findings. The General Registry were looking for the original statements and evidence in the case, but it could take a few weeks. There was a backlog. It would all be buried somewhere in the massive General Registry warehouse, if it hadn’t been thrown away. Evidence was kept more securely now; back then, things weren’t as organized.
She sighed; this would have to do for now. Loxton typed Jenny Hughes and her DOB into the Police National Database, and it began its slow search across the country.
Loxton stood up and peeked through the curtains onto the waking world below. She’d always loved the vantage point her bedroom window had given her, a good view down the road, so she could see what was coming from either side. She’d picked a second-floor flat as they were rarely burgled, with neighbours on either side and above and below. She’d felt sheltered from the chaos outside.
The sky was lightening, and the street below deserted, giving it an apocalyptic feel. In a couple of hours it would be pulsating with traffic and people on the commuter conveyor belt. But in this moment the world belonged to her.
She turned back to the screen. There was a hit waiting for her. She clicked on the record. Jenny Hughes, DOB 20.06.1986, had been arrested for murder in July 2000. Fourteen years old. Jenny Hughes’s parents’ details were there too: Carol and Michael Hughes.
There were no other police records for Jenny Hughes. She’d never come to police notice again.
A few more clicks through police systems showed her Carol and Michael Hughes’s current address in Milton Keynes. They’d reported a burglary last year.
She punched a number into her mobile and waited. It took for ever for him to answer.
‘Hello?’ Kowalski’s voice was groggy.
‘It’s me. We need to go to Milton Keynes.’
‘What time is it?’ Kowalski yawned.
She checked the time on her laptop. ‘It’s four twenty.’
‘In the morning?’ Kowalski said.
‘Obviously.’ Why were men so bad at waking up?
‘Can it wait?’ She heard the pleading in his voice.
‘No, I need you. I’ve found a new lead.’ She couldn’t work this out alone. She needed a fresh pair of eyes. His eyes. She had to know what the connection was between Jonathan Cane and Julia Talbot. There had to be one. Julia had paled when she’d mentioned the name Jonny.
There was silence on the other end of the line.
‘It might be big,’ she said. ‘You won’t want to miss this.’ Loxton was sharing her break with him. He was beginning to irritate her.
‘Fine. I’ll be there in an hour – but this better be good.’
Chapter 32
Alana Loxton
Friday
‘I want to visit Rachel Hughes’s parents,’ Loxton said.
‘Rachel Hughes. Is that name meant to mean something to me?’ Kowalski rubbed his face as he stood in Walworth CID office, the dull early morning light bathing everything in grey.
‘No, but the boy convicted of Rachel’s murder will mean something to you – Jonathan Cane.’
His eyes widened in amazement. ‘You found the parents, after all these years.’
‘They’re not far. Only in Milton Keynes. Steele and Jonathan Cane were two of the last people to see Rowthorn alive and now Jonathan Cane’s turned up dead. Cane was stalking Talbot and Rowthorn. We need to find out what the link is. I think it’s the key to everything.’
‘I’m not sure this is relevant, Alana.’ Kowalski spoke slowly, as if he was talking to a child. ‘That murder was when Jonathan Cane was fifteen years old. How could it be linked? I like the insider trading angle more. Steele, Rowthorn and Cane working together, and when the bank realized what they’d done, all of them panicked, turning against each other.’
‘This enquiry will only take the morning. In the murder squad we’re told to profile everyone: the suspect, witnesses and victims. Learn their whole life history and leave nothing to chance. Jonathan Cane is a suspect. This murder was the most significant moment in his life. We need to check it out.’
‘Okay.’ He put his coat back on. ‘Let’s clear this one up and then we can focus on the bank angle. Best not to leave any avenues ignored, especially if we go to court.’
Patel walked in, her face confusion when she spotted them both. ‘You’re in early?’
‘We’ve got an enquiry in Milton Keynes,’ Kowalski said. ‘Are you night turn?’
‘Just finishing off before the early turn arrive. Alana, I reviewed that CCTV from the Silver Tree Hotel you asked me to. You need to see it. I was going to leave it on your desk, but as you’re here . . .’ Patel motioned for Loxton to come over.
‘Can it wait? This enquiry’s urgent.’
‘It won’t take long.’ Patel unlocked her laptop. ‘Dominik, you’ll want to see this too.’
Kowalski joined them.
Patel’s screen was filled with a car park, half-full.
‘Where is this?’ Loxton asked.
‘The Silver Tree Hotel’s car park on Saturday 15 July. The day before the wedding.’
Loxton nodded, her eyes focused on the screen. She checked the time: 8pm. A car pulled up. The driver stayed in the car for a minute and then climbed out. She pulled a small case out of her boot, paused for a moment, and then pulled her coat off and threw it into the car, slamming it shut and then clicking her key fob. Then she wheeled the suitcase towards the hotel entrance. She had long dark hair on the black-and-white image and was wearing a smart work skirt, white blouse and heels.
‘Lucy Webb?’ Loxton peered at the image.
‘Exactly.’ Patel switched the camera and they saw Webb checking into the hotel with the receptionist. She looked flustered.
‘Talbot and Webb told us Webb arrived at 2.30pm on the Saturday,’ Kowalski said. ‘She’s five and a half hours late – no wonder she looks a little hot and bothered.’
‘I checked all of the CCTV,’ Patel said. ‘Julia Talbot did arrive at the hotel at 2.10pm, and it doesn’t show her leaving. But there’s no CCTV on the rear entrance, so Talbot could have left without being captured.’
‘So Talbot doesn’t have an alibi after all.’ Loxton closed her eyes for a second as it sank in. ‘Why would they lie?’
‘Maybe Talbot didn’t want any awkward questions about that afternoon,’ Kowalski said. ‘She wouldn’t give us her mobile, which we both said at the time was weird, unless she was having an affair too. It’s possible she was seeing someone at the hotel she shouldn’t have been, and she didn’t want it getting out.’
‘And Webb covered for her?’ Loxton thought for a moment. ‘That’s a good friend.’
‘She was her bridesmaid, so they must be pretty close,’ Patel said. ‘I didn’t recognize anyone else entering the hotel, but there were plenty of people coming and going. Any
one of them could have been seeing Talbot. I think she has a little explaining to do.’
‘Can you give her a call?’ Loxton said. ‘Get her to come in for an update and then we’ll ask her. Thanks for this, Patel.’
‘No problem. But there’s something else you should know. I’ve checked the CCTV from the Night Jar. The footage isn’t the best quality, but it looks like Julia Talbot – same size, fair hair. If it is her, she was there the night Cane died.’ Patel loaded up the CCTV from the Night Jar.
Loxton peered at the grainy black-and-white image. The woman’s features were blurred, but it could be Talbot.
‘Rowthorn’s girl.’ Loxton shook her head in disbelief. ‘It was Julia Talbot after all.’
‘And she tricks her way into the back. And a few minutes later Cane and the owner follow her.’
‘Thanks, Meera. When she comes in for the update, we’ll arrest her.’
Meera nodded. ‘And just so you know, after exiting with Cane, neither of them come back into the club or into the camera’s view.’
*
Loxton was glad they’d set off from London so early; it meant they’d managed to escape the worst of the London rush hour. Gridlocked traffic on the other side of the carriageway tried to edge its way into London. All those people crawling towards an already bloated city, Loxton thought.
Michael and Carol Hughes had moved from the small village of Ashurst Wood where their youngest daughter was murdered and were now living in a large, anonymous new-build estate, nestled on the outskirts of Milton Keynes.
Their house was a pretty semi-detached. There was a small front garden, the lawn dark green and kept short. On either side of the front door were two small patio pots with miniature conifers. It was like a Lego house. Loxton knocked gently on the white door.
A man in his fifties opened it a crack and peered at her through the gap.
‘Hello, Mr Hughes,’ Loxton said. ‘I’m DC Loxton and this is DC Kowalski. Can we come in?’
Michael Hughes narrowed his eyes at her but nevertheless opened the door wider. ‘Yes, of course.’
He led them into the living room and offered them a seat. A woman came in and looked at Hughes with a confused expression. She was skeletal and grey, her skin hung from her emaciated frame. When Michael Hughes explained who Loxton and Kowalski were, she went white. ‘Is it Jenny? Is she dead?’ the woman asked.
‘No, Mrs Hughes,’ Loxton said. ‘We’re not here about Jenny as such. We’re dealing with a Julia Talbot and a Mark Rowthorn, who seem to be linked to Jonathan Cane. I know this will be hard for you to talk about, but I wanted to ask you some questions about your other daughter, Rachel.’
Michael Hughes took his wife’s arm and led her to an armchair.
‘Do you have any photos of Jenny?’ Loxton asked once they’d all sat down. She held her breath. She’d barely let herself imagine that her theory was right, but now she was here, she became hopeful.
‘I threw them all out.’ Michael Hughes jutted out his chin, as if challenging anyone to criticize him. ‘She cut us out of her life, so I cut her out of ours.’
‘I’ve got some.’ Carol Hughes’s voice was very small. Her hand fluttered to her mouth as if she wanted to put the words back in. Michael looked at her but said nothing. Carol disappeared upstairs, as quiet as a mouse.
They sat in an uncomfortable silence while they waited. The tick tock of an old-fashioned carriage clock on the mantelpiece made the wait feel longer. Loxton had never been able to find a single record of any fatal car crash involving Talbot’s parents. In fact, she’d hardly found out anything about her. It was as if she’d materialized out of thin air at the age of twenty-one with an art degree.
Carol appeared clutching a white shoe box. She placed it on the coffee table carefully.
‘May I?’ Loxton asked. Carol nodded and stood there staring at the box. Her husband reached his hand out towards hers and guided her back to the sofa.
Loxton slid the lid off and lifted the photographs. There were photos of a tiny baby with large blue eyes nestled in the arms of a much younger and happier Carol. Then a bright little blonde girl holding hands with a red-haired girl with green eyes, both beaming at the camera clutching ice-creams. Another baby photo, but this time the little blonde girl was stood next to Carol, holding the baby’s hand and smiling at the camera. The little girl seemed unsure of herself. And, finally, a dejected teenager with her blonde hair tied back, a lost look in her eyes, as she stared out at the sea on a grey day. She wasn’t smiling in this last photograph.
There was no mistake, Jenny Hughes was Julia Talbot. Kowalski leaned over, studied the photograph of the teenager. He shook his head in disbelief, muttering something quietly in Polish to himself. Loxton knew how he felt; she couldn’t believe it herself. Here was the link between Talbot and Jonathan Cane. Julia Talbot had known Jonathan Cane. He’d killed her sister.
‘Mr and Mrs Hughes, your daughter, Jenny, she changed her name to Julia Talbot,’ Loxton said gently.
Carol and Michael looked at Loxton in confusion.
‘Is Jenny in trouble?’ Carol’s eyes widened in panic.
‘She’s the fiancée of Mark Rowthorn,’ Loxton continued. ‘A banker who’s gone missing from London.’
‘I saw that on the telly. It’s been all over the news,’ Carol Hughes said. ‘Is that our Jenny? They didn’t show a photo of the bride on the news.’
‘That’s because we asked the press not to.’ Now Loxton knew why Talbot had been so distressed about her photo being published.
‘They said on the news the groom just didn’t turn up on the wedding day. What’s happened to him?’ Carol asked but she couldn’t meet Loxton’s eye. She swallowed nervously as her hands shook worse than ever. Michael patted her arm.
‘He went missing the day before their wedding.’ Loxton said. ‘We don’t know what’s happened to him, but he’s not been seen since.’
‘She never even contacted me to say she was getting married.’ Carol Hughes wrapped her arms around herself for comfort. Her husband continued to pat her arm.
‘When did you last have contact with Jenny?’ Loxton asked.
‘Not since she went to university,’ Carol said. ‘She went and never came back.’ She stared into the distance.
‘And why was that, if you don’t mind me asking?’ Loxton willed her to go on.
‘Things were strained after Rachel died.’ Carol’s lower lip trembled but she carried on, her hands gripped tightly together. ‘It was such a hard time for us . . . Some days I didn’t eat . . . I couldn’t do anything. Jenny was only fourteen, she still needed bringing up, so I had to pull myself together. But I wasn’t the mother I used to be.’
‘There’s no easy way to deal with the death of a child,’ Kowalski said.
‘Jenny didn’t cope very well.’ Carol was staring off again as if she’d gone back in time to that dark part of her life. ‘We had to get her psychiatric help. It was awful.’ She covered her face with her hands and began to cry.
‘That must have been difficult,’ Loxton said.
‘It was,’ Michael said, taking over for his wife. He clenched his fists and the muscles along his jawline tightened.‘The psychiatrist said that Jenny couldn’t accept that she’d taken Rachel into Ashurst Wood and just handed her over to her killer. It left Jenny distant from us, prone to lying, making up fantasies of a completely different life. The psychiatrists said Jenny couldn’t deal with her reality. Preferred a fantasy world. To escape. That fucking boy took both our daughters away that day.’ Michael shook his head.
Loxton didn’t know what to say. The Hughes’s pain was still so raw. Perhaps Talbot had blocked her past out of her mind to survive, which is what had made her such a convincing liar.
‘I can’t believe it’s going wrong for her again.’ Carol closed her eyes. ‘She never gets a chance to be happy.’
‘The day Rachel died was the first time Jenny had had to babysit Rachel.’ Michael shook his
head as if he couldn’t believe what he was saying. ‘Normally we paid a babysitter. Jenny was jealous of Rachel. Everyone said it was normal sibling rivalry, but it seemed more than that. And on that bloody day, we couldn’t get hold of the babysitter. We thought Jenny would be all right with Rachel.’ His voice shook.
‘If I’d just said no to work . . .’ Carol said. ‘I worked at a doctor’s surgery and the other receptionist had gone off sick. I didn’t want to let them down.’
‘Do you think Jenny hurt Rachel?’ Loxton had to ask.
‘It wasn’t Jenny.’ Michael Hughes spat the words out. ‘It was that animal. It was all him. Jonny Cane killed our Rachel. He did it.’ Michael Hughes’s whole body was shaking, years of repressed hurt seeping up and out through his skin. Loxton felt drained in his presence, as if she was being pulled into his pain.
Loxton looked at Carol. ‘Who do you think killed Rachel?’
Carol glanced at her husband, then back to Loxton. ‘Jonathan Cane was convicted. It was him.’ She began tugging at her sleeves, worrying the material.
‘We have some news for you both,’ Kowalski said gently. ‘You should prepare yourselves.’
Michael held his wife’s hand.
‘Jonathan Cane is dead,’ Kowalski said.
‘Dead?’ Carol put her free hand to her mouth.
‘We can’t go into the details, but we thought you should know,’ Loxton said.
‘How did he die?’ Michael’s eyes were eager.
‘We don’t know yet,’ Kowalski said. ‘There needs to be a post-mortem.’
Michael nodded. ‘I hope it was slow and painful.’
‘You don’t think Jenny had anything to do with it?’ Carol’s voice shook with fear.
‘What makes you say that?’ Loxton hadn’t expected that reaction. Had Carol seen something in her daughter she didn’t want anyone else to know about? Something dangerous?
‘Well, I don’t know really. I know Jenny took Rachel’s death hard. We all did. It ruined Jenny’s childhood. None of the other kids would play with her. Only Kayleigh Webb. They’d been best friends for years. Kayleigh was always a very sweet girl, never followed the crowd. But Jenny was bullied by the other children. Badly at times.’
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